


She Sings Only Sweet Songs

by birdandherhound



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdandherhound/pseuds/birdandherhound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor did not desert the Kingsguard after Blackwater, but instead showed incredible bravery and saved Joffrey's life. His Grace then relieved him of his duties as a member of the Kingsguard and rewarded him with lands and a new wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night of the Wedding

"You said you wouldn't hurt me." Sansa's eyes flitted from Sandor's down to the floor as she played with the end of her curled red hair with one hand. She kept her other fanned between her legs, covering the auburn hair between her thighs. She was shaking, though for fear of her bedding or of the Hound's size, she could not be sure. She had heard the whispers at court.  _He'll tear her open. He's not a man; he's a beast._

Sandor's voice was gruff, but not violent or unfriendly. "And I won't." The Hound looked hungry, like a man who hadn't seen food in weeks, but Sansa had seen him eat enough for three men at their wedding feast. He looked at her breasts, but averted his eyes quickly. "I won't hurt you; I promise." Sandor took hold of Sansa's hand and pulled her over to the bed, directly in front of him.  _She's so small._  He towered over her, facing the four-poster bed draped in Lannister crimson and gold. Her head only reached his chest, and he could easily wrap his hands around her waist. Firmly, he placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her into a seated position on the edge of the bed. "For now, we sleep. You're pale, girl, and I've had too much wine. The bedding can wait."

Sansa did not show the relief she felt. "Thank you, my lord." She got to her feet and pulled a thin sleeping gown over her head before climbing back into the enormous bed. Despite the Hound's size, Sansa would able to curl up on her side without touching her husband.

Sansa saw a flash of anger in Sandor's eyes. "Don't call me that. I am no lord."  _I have angered him,_ thought Sansa.  _I must remember._  Sandor removed his clothing save his smallclothes, for fear of offending his young bride. Sansa couldn't help but look at him. She had never seen a man so bare.  _He is my husband after all._  His arms and chest was strong and muscled, though scarred from years of combat and training. His back and shoulders were broad with one long diagonal scar running from shoulder to waist.  _The Hound has been fighting since he could walk. He's built for it._

Sandor saw her looking. Scowling, he pulled his long, black hair back down over the ruined half of his face before turning back toward the bed. His new wife, knees tucked to her chest, was lying on her side on the very edge, facing the inside of the bed. She would not mock him, he knew as much. The girl was unfailingly polite. He'd had to goad her to elicit even the smallest response in the past. His little bird only sang sweet songs.

He lowered himself into the bed beside her, settling in on his back with his arms tucked behind his head. He felt her stirring, and she turned over toward him before he heard her ask, "Is my lord husband comfortable?"  _She doesn't know what to do… how this is supposed to go. She's such a young thing._ Sandor nodded his head a bit, and Sansa seemed satisfied.

Sansa sat up meekly, combing her hair behind her left ear with one hand while turning to face Sandor. She glanced over at him before becoming shy and looking down at her hands, now folded neatly in her lap.  _How do I thank him for denying himself what he is owed by right? I am his._ She began fidgeting with the fine bedspread nervously and spoke with a quivering voice. "Thank you for being kind. It is more than what is owed to me."

Sandor glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "Best go to sleep, girl, or I might be tempted to be less kind." Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't reply. She just moved away and went back to her initial position, back facing him. Shuddering, he took several deep breaths before closing his eyes and trying to forget his husband's right and the stiffening in his smallclothes.  _I promised I wouldn't hurt her, and I won't._


	2. The Morning After

Sansa woke shortly before dawn to find her lord husband missing from their bed.  _What if I have displeased him?_  She rose frantically from their bed, still dressed in her gown, but she pulled on some stockings to warm her feet. "My lord? Is something the matter?" She wanted to search for him, but didn't want to find him coming back from the privy, meeting with a whore, or attending to his own needs, which might be worst of all.  _What can I do?_

Sansa looked back at their bed.  _Should I pretend I never woke? I could climb back into bed and be waiting for him when he returned. Perhaps he will bed me today…_ Sansa thought of her lady mother.  _I need her more than ever. I was never taught how to be a wife, especially not to a man like the Hound…_ She walked to the small wardrobe where she had hung her dress for today. Delicately, she traced the gold flower design with her fingers. _Cersei was good to give me such a beautiful gown for a wedding gift, even if the colors are Lannister._ Sansa wondered if she could ever be a Stark again, even just a little bit. She missed her brothers and Lady. She missed her mother and father, and even Arya.  _Are they all dead? Will I ever see them again?_ Sansa was fighting tears when someone's hand touched her shoulder. She gasped and spun around to find Sandor staring down at her.

Sansa's hand flew to her mouth in fear and she tried to catch her breath. "My lord husband, I was looking for you. I called out, but-"

"I visited the privy. Gods." He spoke angrily with disdain in his eyes.

"I-," Sansa did not know what to say.  _What exactly was I afraid of?_ "I was just worried I had displeased you. I didn't feel you leaving." Sansa's breathing quickened and she felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes.  _This is my future. There will be no love, no tenderness. I will be forever protected and safe, but never loved._  "I am sorry."

Sandor's guilt hit him full in the chest and he turned away from her, ashamed.  _I said I wouldn't hurt her. What am I doing now? She cares for me and worries when I'm away._ "Forget it. I am not displeased, though I wish you would not call me lord. Sandor will suffice." Sansa's eyes seemed to dry and Sandor's guilt was alleviated, if just for a moment. He was sure that he would cause her more tears than joy, but not today. They'd only just been married. A maiden's wedding should be the happiest day of her life. The girl deserved that, at least.

"Does my lo- Do you have any engagements today with the King?" Sansa could see the sun peeking over the horizon through the window of their bedchamber. If he was leaving soon, her handmaidens would be in soon to bathe her and help her dress for the day. She might even be allowed some alone time to attend to her sewing or reading.

"No. His Grace has decided that I should have the week to… attend to my new bride." Sandor met Sansa's eyes for a moment before she looked away. He knew she would never refuse him, never say no or cry more than she had to. Her duty came first, but he wanted more than that.  _Devotion?_ Sandor wasn't sure, but it wasn't a begrudging bedding or a marriage sealed with his wife's blood and tears.  _I need one person in my life, just one, that I haven't hurt, who wouldn't leave me if given the chance._

"I look forward to our time together, Sandor."  _It's just as well,_ Sansa thought.  _My handmaids will be all atwitter about my bedding. What could I tell them? They mustn't know my marriage is not yet consummated. They'll think me undutiful._  She turned back to her wardrobe and closed the doors, letting her hand rest there, unsure of what to do next. "Will we stay in King's Landing, my lord or will we be leaving to-"

The Hound moved faster than any man his size ought to be able to. Before Sansa could finish her question, Sandor grabbed her wrist roughly and spun her around to face him. Sansa hadn't even known he had been so close. "I told you. I am no lord." He punctuated each word violently through clenched teeth. The girl looked terrified, but beautiful all the same. Looking down on her, Sandor was achingly aware of what had been denied him the night before and how much he wanted what was his.  _How long has it been since I had a woman?_ He threw one massive arm around her waist, and pulled her onto him, holding her like the child she was. Sansa's eyes never left his, though there was fear in them. Sandor pressed her back against the wardrobe and forced his mouth onto hers. His left hand found its way into her crimson hair, still rumpled from sleep. She made a small surprised sound, like a mouse. Like he knew she would, she opened her mouth to allow him access to her mouth with his tongue, but reciprocated none of his motions. She did not share his passions or desires. Sansa was merely obedient.

Sandor let her go abruptly and dumped her on the ground ungraciously. "I'll summon your girls. Get dressed. I'll send up your food." He turned around, hesitating only for a moment before leaving. Sansa did not move from the floor and began to sob. She tried to wipe Sandor from her mouth and brushed the tears from her eyes like a child. After a moment, she did not even care if Sandor could hear her from the corridor leading away from their bedchamber.

A few minutes had passed when Sansa remembered that she was no longer a girl, but a woman wed.  _I have flowered and been married. I have seen men die, been beaten at court, and been nearly killed by a mob. Surely I can withstand this._

Sansa stopped crying and dried her eyes completely and took one deep breath after another until she could no longer hear her heart pounding in her ears.  _Next time will be better._   _I will respond. I will be his wife, not a girl._   _I will be strong._  By the time her handmaidens arrived, she would be all smiles, as a woman should be on the morning after her wedding.


	3. A Liar and a Maiden

Sansa heard footsteps in the corridor leading up to her chamber. She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to stop her heart from fluttering so wildly. "Good morning, my lady." Sansa's handmaidens greeted her with knowing smiles and gentle hands. They helped her undress, and it seemed to Sansa that they were examining her body with more precision than usual.  _What are they looking for? Bite marks? Bruises? Do they think him such a beast…?_ Sansa felt a flash of anger course through her.  _Well, they shall be unsatisfied._ Sansa tried to relax while her handmaidens scrubbed her until she was pink all over. She deflected most of their questions with the standard, "A lady does not discuss such things," response that she had been fed. Sansa did make sure to mention that it "only hurt a little bit," and that Sandor was perfectly respectable.  _Maybe now people will stop examining me for wounds. He isn't an animal; at least I don't think he is… I'll not have the court, or Joffrey thinking my marriage illegitimate._

While two of her handmaidens were washing and combing her hair, one of her girls had wandered to her wardrobe and found the gown Cersei gave her. "What a beautiful gown, my lady!"

Sansa glanced over at the girl. "Yes, the Queen was very generous. It's the finest dress I own, save my wedding gown. Please bring it here." Sansa was becoming tired of the girls. She rose from the bath, naked and clean. Their questions were vexing her; coming up with answers was harder than she had expected, and she didn't want them to become suspicious if she kept dodging them. Her girls began drying her with a soft cloth. "Once I am dressed, you may leave. I wish to be alone until my lord husband returns."  _When will he return, and what will happen when he does?_ Sansa felt her chest tighten, but she swallowed her fear.  _Nearly every woman surrenders her maidenhead, some younger than I am right now. I am being silly._

The two girls that were supposed to do her hair attempted to hide the smiles they shared, but Sansa saw. She tried not to snap at them; it was discourteous. "Now. I wish to look my best." The girls seemed to hear the urgency and irritation in her voice because they jumped into action.

The girls asked no more questions while they were working, and Sansa lost track of time. Sansa loved having her hair brushed. It was long and vivid and fell nearly to her waist. Her handmaidens brushed it until it shone bright red like the leaves in the godswood back in Winterfell. When they were finished, Sansa stepped into her beautiful gown and waited while they laced up the bodice and and laid her hair smoothly over her shoulders.

When the preparation was over, Sansa was led her over to the small polished mirror next to her wardrobe. Sansa gasped slightly; the gown really was the most beautiful she'd ever worn. It was made for a woman, not a girl, and she looked it today. The gown was red and lower cut than any she'd ever had. The skirt was flowing and long; it would skim the ground when she walked. Golden flowers trailed the length of the dress and sleeves and formed a circle around the tightly cinched waist. The bodice of the gown pushed her breasts up and together, displaying them prominently. She was slightly uncomfortable.  _Will I dress this way every day now? I look like a woman, but I feel like a liar. I am still a maiden. Maybe looking the part of a woman wed will help me play it._

The girls had pulled Sansa's hair back on the sides and left it down in the back, leaving a curtain of auburn curls. The golden clasp she was wearing had been hers since she came to King's Landing, a parting gift from her mother. Sansa felt tears sting her eyes.  _What would she think of me? Dressed all in red and gold… There is nothing of Winterfell left in me._

"You may leave." Sansa sounded cold, and her handmaidens filed out immediately.  _My mother would want me to survive, and that is what I intend to do. Mother had also been married to a man she barely knew…_ Sansa breathed a long sigh and gathered her needlework.  _For now, I'll be the lady she would want me to be, maiden or not._


	4. Lemoncakes

Sansa was glad to have the afternoon to herself. Her handmaidens left her breakfast, but she was too nervous to eat much of anything, though she was delighted to find that someone had discovered her love of lemon cakes. She began with those and ate all of them. It made her feel like a child, which made her feel guilty but safe and reassured all at the same.  _Maybe the life of a married lady won't be so bad after all. I shall have lemon cakes every day._

Sansa took this time to explore the bedchamber she and the Hound had been given during their stay in King's Landing. There was a beautiful wooden bookshelf opposite the bed, with histories of Westeros and Essos alike on its shelves. But Sansa was looking for something less factual and more fanciful. She ran her fingers down the rows, looking for something more to alleviate her boredom.  _There are only history books here. How dull. When I am a lady of my own castle, there will be whole libraries full of stories of knights and ladies and dragons._ She stopped when she found Lords and Ladies of the Ancient North _._   _A lady should know her history… where she comes from. I am sure there are gallant knights and beautiful ladies as well._

Sansa sat down with the simple leather-bound volume and turned to the first page. The illustrations were beautiful and detailed, and it smelled old and full of promise. Sansa wasn't sure how long she had been reading when she heard heavy footsteps in the corridor. She refused to allow herself to look up from the book.  _There is no reason for me to be afraid. I will act as if I heard nothing._  Sansa continued reading, looking over maps of the Old North, before the Wall and the wildlings, before Winterfell. She wondered how the mapmakers could know any of this.

"Studying, little bird? Shall I send for a septa?" Sandor's voice was still gruff, but Sansa thought she detected a bit of amusement there.

Sansa smiled a bit, and replied quietly, "No, thank you. Septa Mordane's education was quite thorough." She wanted to ask him where he had gone, but did not know if she had the heart to hear the answer.

Sandor did not draw closer, but stood in the doorway, a hulking mass of a man. He had never felt more out of place. This room was too fine, his bride too beautiful.  _A man like me belongs in brothels with whores and bastards, fields of battle among the dead and dying, and in the shops in Flea Bottom with the poor and baseborn…_

Sansa felt his discomfort from across the room, but did not know what to say. "Have you broken your fast? I only finished eating a little while ago."  _I guess it's better than nothing._

"Yes, I…" Sandor had never been one for words.  _Why didn't I send for more wine...?_  "Yes. Did your girls bring you your lemon cakes? I had heard…"

Sansa turned her head quickly to look at him in disbelief and blurted, "You knew about the lemon cakes?" She immediately felt badly about interrupting him; a lady knows her turn and her place. "I'm sorry." Sansa turned back to face her book and lowered her voice. "Yes, I did. I do love lemon cakes. That was very thoughtful of you."  _How did he know? Well, I guess I never hid it very well. I've eaten them at every feast I've been to. He probably saw me eating them. I can't believe he remembered._ Sansa could help but feel more comfortable with the idea of this man and this marriage.  _I am not safe yet. There is still the matter of my bedding. Maybe soon I will be comfortable with that, too._

"It was nothing. I…" Sandor sighed. "You are my wife. It is not my intention to cause you pain or worry." He crossed the room toward Sansa, his strides so long that he was upon her almost as soon as he started. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet to face him. "I don't want…"

Sansa could see the pain in the unmarred half of Sandor's face. He looked confused and uncomfortable and couldn't meet her eyes. She waited, breathing slowly with anticipation. _He seems so sincere._

Sandor closed his eyes, set his jaw, and pursed his lips slightly. When his eyes opened, he fixed them on a point in the corner of the room. "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Sansa felt flushed and apprehensive, but not afraid. "You have caused me no pain, Sandor. You have saved me more times than I can count. From the mob and from Joffrey's rage. I know you will not hurt me, and I am not afraid of you. I am lucky to have a husband so trustworthy." Sansa said the words because she knew she was supposed to, but she felt like she was starting to believe it.

Sandor gathered her hair from behind her and gently placed it on her shoulder until it lay on her collarbones and breasts.  _Trustworthy… It is a start._ _One day she may learn to care for me, but not if I do not care for her first._ "I would do anything to protect you. From anyone." He reached out and placed his index finger under her chin, lifting her face up toward his. Their eyes met, but he could not tell what Sansa was thinking.

Sandor bent down and brought Sansa's lips to his own and kissed her softly, completely unlike the last kiss they had shared. Sansa felt warm and excited and confused. She closed her eyes moved her face toward him, rising up slightly on her toes, pressing her lips into his. Her heart fluttered, but she tried to stay calm.  _Will it happen now? What happens next?_ Sansa found herself wishing her mother had told her about this part.

Sandor snaked one arm around her waist and placed the other on the back of Sansa's neck under her hair, opening his mouth to deepen their kiss. Sansa was surprised at how gentle he was being with her. She had hardly known he was capable…  _Oh._ Sansa felt a rush of heat from her chest to her head. Almost impulsively, she reached her hand up and cupped the scarred half of his face, pulling him closer and harder into her.

Sandor broke their kiss, stood up and gathered Sansa into his arms, breathing quickly, but Sansa knew it was not from the effort. He laid her down on the bed on her back and lowered himself on top of her, but did not resume their kiss. He shuddered and turned to Sansa's neck, mouth open and hot, kissing her from collarbone to jaw before making his way back to her mouth.

Sansa felt the warmth between her legs and caught herself hoping that her bedding would not be far off. But Sandor pulled away and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Sansa let a small whimper escape from her lips. "We're going to ruin your gown, girl."

"My… my gown. Oh." Sansa suddenly remembered how she'd been dressed and sat upright. She still felt breathless and flushed, and… hungry, almost. "I could wear something else." Sansa surprised herself. Ladies served their husband's needs, not their own. "If you want," she added quickly.

Sandor smirked a bit. "What do  _you_  want…" He twisted toward her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Little bird?"

 


	5. I'm Not Afraid

Sansa was reeling from the impact of her swirling thoughts.  _What do I want? I don't even know. I don't know what any of this means._ The warmth of Sandor's breath on her ear and neck made her squirm and sigh, and he kissed her neck and ears until she felt like she might burst. "I want," Sansa could barely breathe by now. "I want you."

Sandor wanted her, too – desperately. He stood up and spun her around to face away from him. His enormous hands always made trouble for him when handling delicate things, and all the gods knew he had never tried to unlace a dress this fine. Soon the dress was off her shoulders and Sandor kissed each inch as it was revealed. He kept working until her bodice was completely unlaced and he was able to slip the gown off and let it slip down to the floor. He left her in her thin nightgown and laid her back down.

Sansa did not know what to expect, but she was ready, as ready as she had ever been for anything. Her chest was heaving and her hands were shaking. Their eyes met and she searched his for what he was thinking. Sandor lowered himself back on top of her without removing his clothes. He was heavy, but Sansa did not mind his weight on top of her. His lips found hers and his hair fell into her face. "Don't be afraid," he rasped as he began to move his lips back to her neck.  _I am not afraid. Not anymore._

Sandor's moved his right hand down her side, past her breasts, over her hips and beneath the skirt of her sleeping gown. He moved his mouth back onto hers and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Moving slowly, he slipped one finger between her lips and was pleased with the wetness he found there. He pressed his finger farther inside her and Sansa moaned into his mouth.  _Gods._ Sandor wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he would have to wait. He pressed in and out of her with one finger until she began to move her hips up against him. Sandor slipped in another finger and curled his other hand into her hair and moved his mouth back to her ear. "Do you like this, girl?" His voice was a growl, low and deep.

Sansa couldn't stop the sounds coming from her mouth, and she didn't want to. "Yes.  _Yes_." It hurt a little bit, like she had told her handmaidens, but only when he had slipped in the second finger. But now… Sansa could no longer think, could not process anything besides what she was feeling. Her hands found their way around the Hound's back and she pulled him closer to her. Sansa buried her face into his shoulder, muffling her cries, which were coming more frequently and becoming higher pitched with time.

"Come on, girl." Sandor pushed into her faster and faster until he felt her arms clench around him and she let out one last drawn out cry. Sansa's body relaxed against the bed and she drew her legs together as Sandor withdrew from her. He cleared the blood from his fingers quickly so as not to alarm her, but he was sure there would be more underneath her.  _I'll have to send for new sheets. That should please the court._

Sansa had drawn herself into the fetal position, so Sandor laid on his side behind her, drawing his arm across her body and burying his head in her hair. Sansa took his hand into hers and closed her eyes, smiling. She didn't seem to want to talk. Sandor didn't mind. He'd never done this part before.

 


	6. In Time

Sansa was lying quietly against him, and Sandor wanted to do nothing to change that. It was a strange thing for Sandor to be allowed to lie in contentment.  _Have I ever been allowed a quiet moment?_  He basked in the scent of her hair, like rosewater and lavender. He moved his thumb softly and slowly across her hand, allowing her the time she needed to recover. He was sure she was in some pain, but hopefully her satisfaction outweighed the soreness.  _I did try to be gentle._

Sansa made a small, satisfied cooing sound and removed her hand from her husband's before she turned over to face him, a small smile on her face. She bit her lower lip sheepishly before and met his gaze.  _I don't know the words for what I want to say. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for giving me what you knew I wanted instead of taking what you were owed._ Instead of speaking, she kissed Sandor softly on the mouth.

Sandor smiled a tiny smile, the unblemished half of his mouth curling upward almost imperceptibly. "Are you hurting?" Sandor had been with maidens before, although not in many years. He seemed to remember them being in more pain than Sansa seemed to be, although with the others, he had skipped straight to the bedding…

Sansa looked down at his chin, as if trying to direct her concentration downward.  _I hadn't noticed until now... I had thought it passed when I..._ "Only a little. I'm a bit sore." She allowed her hand to wander to the down between her legs and ran her fingers across the slickness she found there. When she drew her hand back up past her waist, Sansa was horrified to find blood on her fingertips. "I'm bleeding…" She was shocked and embarrassed. A lump developed in the back of her throat and her eyes filled with tears.  _Stop it, stop it. There is nothing wrong. A maiden's blood is normal._ Sansa could not reassure herself enough to stop the few tears that spilled down her cheeks.

Sandor sighed; he had never comforted a weeping woman and did not know how. "All maidens bleed. Does it pain you so terribly?"  _The girl is just frightened._ He took her bloody hand in his and softened his voice. "I am not afraid of blood. I've seen enough for 100 men."

"I'm sorry. You're right. Will it… will it be worse when we…" Sansa's words caught in her throat. She thought of how silly she must look, and that only made her more upset.

"No, girl. You'll only bleed once. Now stop." Sandor could feel himself becoming irritated again. "The worst is over."

Sansa remembered her promise to herself: Her promise that she would be a good wife, a good lady. "I want to please you." Sansa tried to forget about the mild soreness that she felt.  _It isn't so bad. It barely hurts at all. It was just the blood that frightened me._ "You are my husband. Just as you do not wish to hurt me… I do not wish to cause you irritation or frustration. I will do anything you ask." Sansa looked down. "Anything you can show me."

_Her eagerness is promising._ Sandor could feel his anger subsiding. He kissed his wife's forehead and wiped the remaining tears from her face. "In time, little bird. The bedding will come, along with other things. Do not worry about displeasing me. You will become all that I need. You're so young." Sandor pulled his wife to his chest, lying her head against his heart. "You just need time."

 


	7. Hands

Sansa was comfortable against her husband's chest: comfortable and happy. Sansa was also apprehensive.  _It can't stay like this. Not forever. He's a man, and he's… The Hound._ Sansa had brothers, and she grew up with Theon. She was familiar with the sexual appetites of men. How often Theon visited women was almost a joke in Winterfell. Her father had tried to shield her and Arya from the knowledge.  _But don't children always know more than they're supposed to?_ Sansa took a deep breath.

Sandor could feel his wife stirring against his chest. He could feel his cock, unbidden, hardening beneath his smallclothes. Sandor shifted, pulling his knees up slightly, putting distance between his wife and his groin. "I thought you meant to sleep."

Sansa shook her head slightly and gave him a wan smile.  _I could have slept. He's so warm._ "I meant to ask you earlier… His Grace gave you lands, did he not? And a lordship? How long will we be here?"  _I am tired of this place. It's as he said… everyone here is a liar. I would like a home of my own, a place to make my own way._

"His Grace has given me permission to take my leave, but I feel he and Cersei will be displeased if we depart before His Grace's wedding." Sandor was ready to go, ready to take Stranger and Sansa away from this wretched place, stinking of whores and piss and shit in the streets.  _The last thing I want to do is sit through another fucking wedding._

"Of course… the wedding. I'm sure the feast will be lovely. We will attend together as husband and wife." Sandor could see his wife tense at the mention of Joffrey and Margaery's wedding. Her voice had no joy in it.  _That is the life she should have. Married to a king with a wedding feast attended by every lord in the Seven Kingdoms. But Joffrey is no true king… I'm the best she'll get._ Sandor was angry at the thought. He wanted to lash out, tell her what Joffrey would do to his new bride.  _But of course she knows. I need wine._

Sandor rose from the bed quickly, leaving Sansa looking surprised. "I'll be back tonight. I'll send for your handmaidens and someone to replace the sheets. I'll leave you to them today." The gruffness had returned to his voice; he could not keep it out.

Sansa's mouth opened, but she could think of nothing to say, except, "Where will you go? I thought His Grace had given you-"

"I'm going  _out_ , girl." His voice was almost a growl as he strode out the door to the corridor outside. "I expect you to be here when I return."

His sudden change frightened Sansa.  _Which man will return here tonight? The tender one who spared me the pain of a bedding? Or the man who frightened me on the Serpentine?_ What frightened Sansa most was that she didn't know which man she was hoping for. Her heart began to pound.  _I had best get dressed before my handmaidens get here. They were stupid enough this morning when I didn't look like I had just been ravaged by The Hound._

She rose from the bed and saw her golden hair clasp down beside their bed. Sansa picked it carefully and laid it on the desk where she had been reading and gathered her gown from the floor.  _I'll never be able to re-lace this bodice by myself. The girls will know._  Sansa was strangely embarrassed.  _Ladies are supposed to bed their husbands. I should not be ashamed._

Sansa steeled herself against her emotions and stepped into her beautiful gown. Once she had smoothed the fabric as much as possible, she was grateful that Sandor had thought to remove it before he had climbed on top of her. Sansa reached her arms behind her as best she could and did up her bodice. Twisting awkwardly, she could see her back in the mirror. _My hair will cover the top._ Sansa became irritated with her husband for leaving so abruptly. _I could have used another set of hands…_

Sansa couldn't help but think of Sandor's hands, then. They were massive and strong, rough and calloused, gentle but urgent when they removed her gown. He had tangled his hands in her hair when he kissed her… Sansa felt a flush creep up her neck.  _I wish he was still here…_ She let her mind wander to her memories of his hands working beneath her skirt and inside her as she attempted to brush the tangles out of her hair, though she found herself caring less and less about her disheveled appearance.  _Let them think what they want. They're just stupid girls._

The wetness had begun to return between Sansa's legs when she was pulled out of her reverie by a chorus of, "Did you enjoy your breakfast, my lady?" "What shall we do today, my lady?"  _Very stupid girls._


	8. There Are No Liars Here

Sandor had never been good at controlling his anger, and his anger came on him quickly. He needed to become better at it, for his little bird's sake. He breathed in the crisp autumn air as he walked and walked through King's Landing, reveling in the stench of the city.  _It's good to be out of that bloody castle._  Sandor preferred to be in the thick of humanity, with the people milling around, dirty and stinking, thin and poor.  _There are no liars here._ Sandor kept walking until he found a seedy inn bar with even seedier patrons.

"Wine," he barked at the man behind the bar. The barkeep recognized him and gave him a strange look.  _I'm not wearing my bloody cloak anymore, but I still have my sword. He needs to keep his fucking looks to himself._ He looked back at the man fiercely, right in the eyes, and that seemed to hurry him up.

Sandor hadn't gotten drunk since the night before his wedding. It had only been a few days, but for him it felt like a month. Sandor could fight better drunk than most men sober, so he never feared for his safety.  _I had thought I could be better for the girl, but… Fuck it._ Sandor drank and watched the people around him, ordering more wine immediately after finishing what he'd been given.

"You want anythin' else? Food? If you want a whore, you'll have to go down the way a bit. The girls used to come in here, but they were nothing but trouble-"

Sandor cut the man off.  _Gods, stop fucking talking_ _._ "Bread, yes." Sandor laid a few coins on the table. "That should cover me for a while. Don't let me run out of wine."

Everyone in King's Landing knew the Hound and what he was. Only one man was foolish enough to say anything to him. He was a large man, but no match for Sandor. "The dog's been put out in the streets! Must have displeased his master," the man had joked to his party. Sandor grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground while his friends moved back in horror. "I could kill you and fuck your corpse and no one in here could do a fucking thing," he growled as he threw the man to the floor. The man landed a few feet from the door, and Sandor saw he had pissed himself. Sandor laughed at that.  _He must have thought I was a good deal drunker than I am._ His decidedly unworthy adversary scrambled to out the door, with his party not far behind.

The barman started to protest, "That was good business you ran off-" but stopped after a sharp look from The Hound.

"I'll make up for it," he rasped.  _And I intend to._ After another hour of heavy drinking, his thoughts turned to his new wife.  _She's probably spending time with her girls or Lady Margaery. She'll like that. I guess we're both back in our element._  Sandor chuckled darkly to himself.

Sandor had heard rumors about Lady Margaery. Rumors all the way from Flea Bottom to the Kingsguard. Men said that she was insatiable, that she took lovers highborn and low. Sandor could not speak to the veracity of these rumors personally, but he knew a maiden when he saw one… Margaery's handmaidens seemed to be the same.  _I wonder how much the little ladies speak of such things._ Sandor wondered if Sansa would lie.  _Would she tell them that I have been between her legs with more than my hands?_  Sandor's eyes closed and his breath caught in his chest. _I wish I had._  Sandor felt himself growing hard despite his drunken state. Sansa had been hot, so hot and wet just with his hands. He wondered how much warmer she would be around his- Sandor took a deep breath.

It had grown dark since he began drinking and dining. Sansa would already have eaten and returned to their chamber.  _I did tell her I expected her to be waiting for me._ Sandor left a few more coins on the bar and stood, more quickly than he should have. The room was spinning and Sandor swayed before he even took a step. The barkeep glanced at him and began to say something, but Sandor just waved him away.

With shuffling steps, Sandor managed to make it to the door.  _The cool night air will help to sober me up, as will the long walk back to my chamber._ Upon exiting the inn's bar, the stench of the street hit him, and Sandor couldn't help himself. He turned his head to the side and retched against the outside wall of the shoddy building.  _Well, that will help, too._ Sandor grinned a bit, and kept walking. His head cleared a bit before he made it all the way back to the safety of the castle.

Sandor made it up the stairs and down the corridor to his bedchamber without falling, but he nearly fell when he bent to enter the door. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to settle his stomach and quiet his heart before he dared look upon his marriage bed. His wife was asleep, curled up on her side with her knees tucked to her chest like a child, auburn hair spread behind her like flames.


	9. She Sees Your Lies

Sansa's handmaidens informed her that Lady Margaery would welcome company if she would not be dining with her new husband.  _Someone must have seen Sandor leaving the castle._ Sansa managed to hide her irritation. If she wanted to be with Sandor, she would have to learn to accept his utter disregard for the opinions of others.

"Quickly. My lord husband is out, attending to his business. Fetch me the blue silk." Sansa did not wish to wear her ostentatious gown any longer.  _The Hound is not here. I do not have to be such a woman, even if Cersei did give me the gown…_  The girls helped her out of her rumpled gown, loosing her hastily tied bodice, all the while smiling and looking over every inch of her. This time Sansa did not bother to hide her anger. "Stop looking at me like that," she snapped, anger glinting in her Tully blue eyes. "It is improper. I am a married woman now, and you will avert your eyes and protect my modesty."

Sansa's handmaidens exchanged glances before one of the girls brought Sansa's blue silk dress over to her. Gently, Sansa ran the smooth fabric through her fingers before she motioned to her girls to help her dress. She much preferred the light, airy Southern silks that she was able to wear in King's Landing to the rough, woolen ones she had worn in Winterfell.

When Sansa was appropriately dressed, hair pulled up with two twin red tails falling over each shoulder, she led her small entourage down the corridor leading away from her bedchamber. Sansa was happy to be out and roaming the castle again.  _It is good that Sandor went out to drink or whore. The castle may think our marriage false, but I have my freedom again._ Margaery's solar was located in a remote corner of the castle, to allow her privacy while she remained unmarried. It was quite a walk, but Sansa enjoyed every moment. She was, however, aware of the glances she received from the people that they passed, highborn and low.  _Are they surprised that I am out so soon after my bedding or that I survived it?_ Sansa put her negative thoughts out of her mind as they drew closer to Margaery's chambers.

Margaery was always smiling and gracious, and she always seemed genuinely delighted to see Sansa. Today was no different. "My lady Sansa! How lovely you should come!" Sansa smiled back and assured her that she was delighted to be with Margaery as well and complimented the beauty of the room and Margaery's dress.

Sansa was happy for the food Margaery had asked to be brought to her solar; she hadn't realized how hungry she was. While they ate, Margaery talked of how beautiful Sansa's wedding had been and how happy Sansa had seemed.  _Is she mocking me? The wedding was hardly opulent, and I am sure I looked terrified._ "Thank you, my lady. I am lucky to have had a wedding so fine. The King was generous to have allowed me to have it here in King's Landing." Margaery tilted her head, pressed her lips together in a small smile, and looked at Sansa sadly.  _Maybe she's remembering that I had no family at my wedding, a child from a House disgraced._

Sansa looked down at the table and folded her hands in her lap. "Are you finished, Lady Clegane?" Sansa looked up at Margaery; she looked kind, as if she wanted to comfort her young companion.  _Lady Clegane…_

"Yes, thank you, my lady," said Sansa.

Margaery looked up and said authoritatively, "Girls, leave us. The Lady Clegane and I wish to speak privately."  _Privately? The last time a Tyrell had wished to speak to me privately was when the Queen of Thorns asked me to defame Joffrey._  Sansa took a deep breath. _And I did. I called him a monster._  Sansa became very sad, suddenly. Margaery was kind, and even though she was clever, Sansa was afraid she would not be able to escape Joffrey's cruelty after they were married.

Sansa was so caught up in her thoughts, she did not realize that the last of Margaery's handmaidens were trailing out of the room. "My lady, is there something you wish to ask of me?" Sansa asked hesitantly.

Margaery smiled. "I just want to talk to you… woman to woman." She leaned forward to take Sansa's hand. "Are you alright? A woman's bedding can be painful, or…" Margaery looked wistful. "Pleasurable, if correctly done."

Sansa did not know how to respond. She could brush off her handmaidens without regard for their feelings or her rudeness, but Margaery was different.  _I cannot displease the future Queen._  Sansa swallowed and tried to sound confident. "It was lovely. He was… He was gentle and," she could feel herself flushing. "And it didn't hurt much at all. I was very happy." Sansa smiled, although she had a feeling Margaery did not think that she was being completely genuine.

To Sansa's surprise and confusion, Margaery only laughed. "Oh, Sansa, if you wish to survive in King's Landing, you must become a better liar."

"My lady, I do not understand-"

"Sansa," Margaery interrupted her, though not unkindly. "You are still a child, and remember, I have been married before." Sansa could not stop her eyes from going wide as she realized the weight that Margaery's words carried. "You speak of making love in the voice of a child. You know what it is, but not how it feels, in your heart or in your loins."

Sansa could not speak. What Margaery spoke of was madness. All of Highgarden… Loras Tyrell and the Queen of Thorns herself had attested to Lady Margaery's intact maidenhood! "My marriage is not yet consummated, my lady. You have the right of it. But…" Sansa looked about nervously. "My lady, we should not speak of these things. Varys and Littlefinger, they know everything."

Margaery smiled again. "Sansa, soon I will be Queen. Joffrey and Cersei want the strength of Highgarden, not my maidenhead. I will keep your secret, although you should bed your husband soon. I am not the only one capable of seeing through lies." Sansa averted her eyes from Margaery's, embarrassed.

Sansa was in awe of Margaery's boldness and confidence… and a little afraid. She kept her eyes downcast until Margaery began to speak again. "There is no reason we should be enemies. I know you did not want to marry Joffrey. You can be happy with this Clegane man, beastly as he may be. You, more than anyone, should know the men with the fairest faces often turn out to be the most dangerous." Sansa felt badly again for Margaery.  _The girls in King's Landing all coo over Joffrey. They fantasize about what being his wife would be like. They do not know, and thankfully neither will I. Gods willing, Margaery's powerful family would keep her safe from much of Joffrey's cruelty. She had more protection that I would have. I have no family here…_

Margaery let go of Sansa's hand and stood up. "You may return to your chambers. I'm sure your husband will back tonight." Margaery gave Sansa a meaningful look. "I'm sure your girls will be waiting not far outside the chamber."

Sansa stood, trying to process this new knowledge, almost forgetting her courtesies. "Thank you for this luncheon, Lady Margaery. It was lovely to see you, always, and the meal was perfect."  _Not quite. There were no lemon cakes._

Margaery and Sansa finished their goodbyes, and Sansa turned and headed for the door she had entered through. She had not realized how fast her heart had been beating or that she had been sweating. Sansa stopped short when she heard Margaery call for her. "Sansa, I consider you a friend," the older girl said. "But if you tell my secrets, I can and will bury you."

 


	10. I'm Cold

Sandor did not want to wake the girl. She was sleeping soundly; he could see her breathing deeply, shoulder blades moving slightly in time with her breaths. Sansa made small noises occasionally, little whimpers barely loud enough to cross the room where Sandor stood. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, watching her, before he began removing his clothes for sleep.  _How could I think what I did with her sleeping here? A child, dreaming, probably of home, of snow and her dead wolf._ Sandor's head was still swimming, but he was thinking more clearly than he had been at the inn.

He piled his clothes messily near the door of their chamber before crossing the room as lightly as his enormous frame would allow. He walked slowly, taking each step one at a time, partly because he was still uneasy on his feet and partly to avoid waking the girl. Sandor wasn't sure he would be able to control himself if she was awake. Once at the side of the bed, he lowered himself onto it quietly, not bothering to draw the covers up around him. There was a bit of a chill hanging in their chamber, but the chilly air does a drunk man good. Sandor pulled up his arms and joined his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

_The little bird is a heavy sleeper._ Sandor chuckled inwardly.  _Good thing for her, especially if she likes to retire early._  He was exhausted; a man is never prepared for how sleepy wine can make you. Sleep was about to take him when he felt Sansa stirring on the other side of the bed. Sandor opened one heavy lid to see his wife closing the distance between them, barely awake.

"Mmmmm," she murmured sleepily. "I'm cold." Sansa laid her head on her husband's and threw one arm over his scarred chest and closed her eyes again. Sandor was unsure if she was ever truly awake. He brought his left arm down her back and pulled her against him. Feeling her pressed against his bare chest made his heart pound urgently. When he was convinced the little bird had resumed her sleeping, little noises and all, Sandor exhaled contentedly and let the wine take him into sleep.

 


	11. I Promise

Sandor awoke to a dry mouth and an aching bladder. He moved slowly, so as not to disturb the little bird, still asleep on his chest. She groaned as he moved her head, but she seemed not to wake as Sandor rose from the bed. He felt slightly dizzy as he crossed the room.  _I've certainly been worse._ Sandor chuckled quietly as he made his way to the privy.

He began to remember the thoughts he'd had last night about his wife.  _My wife!_ Sometimes Sandor still had trouble believing his good fortune. He'd wanted the girl for so long, but he'd never imagined he'd have her. But Sandor's mood turned dark with that thought.  _I still haven't had her._ Sandor pushed his anger down and relieved himself.  _If the Lannisters knew… Gods, if Cersei knew we had not consummated our marriage…_ Sandor covered himself and took a deep breath.  _Her maidenhead is broken, and the girl would not be so foolish as to tell anyone… I believe. Surely I do not need to tell her to keep silent. She has knowledge enough of the way the world works. A marriage is sealed with a cock and a cunt, not vows._

Sandor turned to head back to his chamber, calmed. He found himself hungry.  _I'll send for food once the girl is awake._ There was no need to wake her yet. It was still very early, judging by the shadows lining the corridors.

A small voice called out from their chamber when he drew near. "Sandor? Is that you?" She sounded a little frightened, and Sandor felt a pang of guilt.

Sandor stepped quickly into the chamber. "Yes, little bird. It's only me." She was seated on the edge of the bed where Sandor had been sleeping. He was pleased to see not only relief in her eyes, but a bit of happiness as well.

Sansa smiled a small smile and looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "I was worried. You said you would be home last night, and I-"

"You do not remember me coming back? You really are a heavy sleeper, little bird." Sandor could not help but smile a bit, the unscarred half of his mouth curling upward. "I did mean to return earlier, but I- I was delayed." _A small lie. She need not know I drank too much and forgot myself._

Sansa's smile disappeared and she exhaled sharply. "My lord husband may do as he pleases."  _He is lying. He said a Hound would never lie to you. Perhaps that was a lie as well._  Sansa could feel her anger growing, but she dared not show it. She stood quickly and made her way over to the small desk in the corner of her room. There was a small hand mirror there. She held it up and examined herself in it. Her hair was disheveled from sleeping, and her face was flushed. Sansa made a point of ignoring her husband as he smoothed her hair down with her hands.  _If he is meeting with whores, I suppose he has no need of me._ Sansa's anger and hurt grew in her chest until her breath was coming quicker and her heart was pounding.

Sandor watched his wife walk away from him.  _She knows I am lying._ He spoke tremulously. "I was not with a whore. I see your anger. Do you think so little of me?" He was angry now, his voice gruff and deep.  _How can she be angry with me?_   _I have never hurt her. I didn't even fuck her!_

Sansa turned her head slowly to meet his angry gaze. She spoke politely, but her voice was devoid of affection or pity. "You owe me no explanation,  _husband_. I will always await your return." She looked into his eyes for a few moments more before turning back to her mirror.  _I've been married off to a man beneath my birth, and now he won't even have me._ Sansa picked up her hairpin and pulled half her hair back as best as she could. "If you would send for my girls, I would-"

"Stop it. I will send for no one." Sandor balled his hands into fists and took a few deep breaths before crossing the room and pulling Sansa to her feet. "I did not do this." He took both her hands in his. "Look at me."  _She is more stubborn than I thought. The little bird has claws._  "Look at me!" Sansa raised her eyes slowly to meet his. He blue eyes were angry, but he could see the insult underneath.  _She is angry, but her pride is hurt more than anything. She thinks I do not want her._ "I did not meet with a whore. I was drinking. And… fighting a bit." Sandor chuckled at the memory of the man he had threatened.  _Fool._

Sansa furrowed her brows. "Why are you laughing?"

"Just remembering the man who thought it wise to mock me. He regretted his actions soon enough." Sandor let go of one of Sansa's hands and tucked a piece of her hair she'd missed behind her ear. "Sansa, I would not soil your honor by visiting a whore mere days after our wedding. I did not do this." Sandor searched her eyes. She seemed apprehensive, but certainly less angry. "I swear it. I will visit no whores, sire no bastards. I  _swear_ it."

Sansa tried to hide her relief, but she could not. Instead she pulled her eyes away from his and looked at the ground. Her lips parted in a large smile. "I believe you. Thank you. I am sorry I was angry with you. I'm sorry I suspected you." Sansa stepped forward, rested her head against his chest, and put her arms around him. "I should trust you," she murmured.

Sandor's relief coursed through him. "It's all right, little bird." He stroked her hair softly. "I cannot blame you. I do have a reputation…"  _It's not as if I've never visited a whore._  The thought disturbed him. It was before they were married, but he still felt guilty about it somehow.  _I'm too tired for this, and I need some wine for my head._ "It's early. You should go back to sleep."

Sansa bit her bottom lip and looked up at him sheepishly. "Will you come with me?"


	12. It's Wonderful

Sandor was taken aback by her request. "Of course," he smirked. "I'm your husband. A lady should not retire to an empty bed."

A flush crept up Sansa's neck, and she tried to hide her grin. She cast her eyes downward, "Thank you, husband." A small laugh escaped her lips, and she looked back up at him to see that he was smiling now, also.  _I knew he could be kind._

 _No lady in her courtly silks has ever looked so fine as she does now in her sleeping gown. I have done nothing to deserve this good fortune. I should pray more._ Sandor took her hand and led her to the edge of their bed. Sansa scrambled over to the opposite side, laid down, and gazed up at him with apprehension.  _And excitement?_

Sandor reclined on the bed next to her, pulling her closer to him, but not touching her yet. He smirked again.  _A lady must be patient._ "How did you occupy yourself in my absence?"

Sansa looked a bit confused, but answered calmly. "I had lunch with Lady Margaery, then returned here to read."  _A boring end to an exciting day._ Sansa moved slightly closer to him. "A dull night."

"Indeed." Sandor leaned in to plant a warm, wet kiss on Sansa's neck. "And Lady Margaery…" He moved his mouth up closer to her ear, kissing her lightly there and then making his way down her neck. "You told her you were bedded?"  _Surely._

Sansa's emotions were running high and her breath was coming quick.  _He wants the truth from me._ Her heart was beating quickly, from her arousal or the lie she was about to tell, she could not be sure. "Yes." Sansa gasped as he nibbled on her earlobe. "Yes, of course." _A small lie. Margaery has too much at stake to betray my trust._  Sansa tried to forget about the shame she felt for lying.  _Maybe he will bed me now, and the lie will have meant nothing._

"Good," Sandor rasped. He covered her mouth with his own and kissed her fervidly, harder than the last time. He pressed against her, not caring whether she felt him growing hard. He took the hand he had tangled in her hair and moved it down to her breasts, cupping them in his huge hands through the fabric of her sleeping gown.

Sansa moaned against his mouth, a low urgent moan, and Sandor responded by pulling at her nipple with his fingers.  _Now is the time. I want this, and I know he does, too._ Sansa pulled away, pushing at him with her hands on his chest. He looked confused and angry.  _He cares for me too much to make the next move, no matter how much he wants to._ She grabbed for the bottom of her sleeping gown, pulled it upward, and wriggled out of it, leaving her bare except her smallclothes.

Sandor's eyes locked with hers and never moved. "Sansa…"

Sansa closed the distance between them and knelt on the bed in front of him. "Shhh," she whispered before kissing him gently on his burned cheek. She ran one hand through his black hair and said quietly, "I know you won't hurt me."

"No. I won't hurt you." Sandor kissed her then, urgently and deeply, burying one hand in her hair and returning his other to her breast. He caressed them softly before beginning to trace his way down her neck and shoulders with his mouth.

Sansa loved the way his mouth felt on hers, but she loved the way his mouth felt on her skin even more.  _I wonder how my mouth will feel on his. I wonder when he will let me find out._ When Sandor took her nipple into his mouth, Sansa cried out and covered her mouth in embarrassment. She could feel the flush in her cheeks.

Sandor laughed. "Stop that, little bird. I like hearing you sing." He continued to run his tongue over her small pink peak and slowly moved his hand down to her thighs, grazing her skin as he went. She was already wet when he slipped his hand underneath her smallclothes and his fingers into her slit, and the moan that escaped her was louder than before. Sandor was aching for her by now.  _How easy it would be to take her._  Sandor removed his mouth from her breasts, eliciting a cry of protest from his wife. "So eager, Sansa." He pushed his fingers into her harder than before, and began moving his mouth down to meet them.

Sansa's chest was heaving and her mind was foggy. She was shaking with excitement when Sandor removed her smallclothes, and when her husband buried his head between her thighs, it was all she could do not to scream.  _Gods!_ Sansa covered her face with her hands and her squeals turned to low moans.

Sandor could feel his wife coming close to climax, and he couldn't wait. She tasted sweet, better than any wine. He pressed into her, deeper and faster while working his tongue up and down between her lips, stopping occasionally to suck gently at the nub at the top of her slit. Her cries were louder, more insistent now, and he knew it was time. He thrust into her twice more, as deep as he could go.

Sansa's mind went blank as she almost screamed into the morning air. Her sounds were muffled by Sandor's mouth returning to her own. Her hands flew to the back of his head and tangled themselves in his long, thick hair. Sansa could taste herself on him. That only made her pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Sandor was frantic. His cock was hard, and he wasn't sure he could resist much longer. His wife was holding him tight, but he moved his mouth to her ear. He kissed her there, and breathing heavily, he whispered, "Sansa," His voice was deep and raspy, primal and needy, "Please, Sansa, please."

Sansa knew what he was asking for.  _He wants me to want him, and I do. I do._ "Yes," she replied forcefully. "Yes,  _Sandor._ "

Sandor quickly undid the breeches he'd fallen asleep in and freed his cock. It had begun to weep against his smallclothes.  _I will not last long._ Sandor drew Sansa into a deep kiss, one hand in her hair and the other on his cock, ready to guide himself into her. Sansa was wet from her release, but he knew he would face difficulty all the same. He pressed against her opening and let out a small, deep moan into her mouth. Sandor pushed in a little farther, and his wife made a small, distressed whimper. "Are you alright?" She looked a bit tense, but she gave him a small smile and a nod.

He moved away from her slightly before pushing into her again and again, moving a little deeper each time. Once he was fully inside of her, his climax was close. He moved his mouth to her neck, sucking on her ardently, and pushed into her fully two times before he came, shuddering against her.

Sansa felt bliss like she never had before.  _I had thought it would hurt. Margaery was right. It can be wonderful._


	13. A Lie Revealed

After Sandor rolled onto his back, Sansa sunk down to rest her head on his chest. She snuggled up close to and threw her arm across him. Absent-mindedly, she allowed a small laugh to escape from her lips.

Sandor sat up slightly and looked down at her with a serious expression on his face. "Why are you laughing?"

Sansa smiled and looked up at him. "Nothing, it's just… I was so frightened! Every day since I was told I was to be married, I was terrified of my bedding. But, it was so…" Sansa sighed a sigh of relief.

"Good?" Sandor asked with a lecherous look in his eyes.

Sansa blushed and brought one hand to her face. "Sandor, stop, I am a  _lady,"_  but she couldn't stop herself from giggling.

Sandor couldn't keep himself from breaking into a smile either. "Don't lie, little bird. You were enjoying yourself." Sandor liked teasing his little wife. "I  _was_  there, you know."

Sansa could feel herself turning red all over. Sansa had always blushed deeply, from her chest and neck all the way to the tips of her ears. She buried her face in her hands, smiling all the while. "Stop it, stop it." Sansa wriggled her way up to his face and planted a kiss on his mouth. When she pulled away, Sansa gave her husband her best stern face, trying to mimic the one Septa Mordane used to give her when she fed Lady at the table. "A lady does not speak of such things." She tried to keep a straight face, but she could feel her lips twitching.

Sandor chuckled. "You'll get used to it." He pulled his arm from around to meet the other behind his head. Sandor's head was pounding worse than before.  _Probably from my recent exertions, pleasurable as they were…_ "We should get dressed and break our fast soon. I'll leave for a while and have someone draw you water for a bath."

Sansa pulled away from him, slightly disappointed.  _He's leaving so soon… again?_ "If it pleases you." She rose from the bed still naked and walked to where her dressing gown had ended up, just a few feet from their bed. She could feel Sandor's eyes on her.  _Let him look. All men look upon their wives._ Sansa smoothed out her sleeping gown as best she could and pulled it over her head. Turning toward Sandor, she slid her hair off the back of her neck over her left shoulder.

Sandor furrowed his brows and sighed irritably. "Are you angry?"

 _Just disappointed…_ "No." Sansa forced herself to smile. "No, I'm not angry. Perhaps after my bath, I will pay another visit to Lady Margaery. I do enjoy her company, and after we depart King's Landing, I will not be able to see her at all."  _And maybe I will tell her I have consummated my marriage… She will be pleased, no doubt._

Sandor eyes narrowed slightly. "Very well. I will return here tonight," he sighed slightly, "earlier this time, I hope. I am sorry for my absence."

Sansa felt guilty for her own lie as well as for making him feel badly about his.  _I should tell him about my conversation with Margaery…_ "It's alright, Sandor, though I…" Sansa looked down at her hands. "I should have told you earlier, but…"

Sandor's heart began beating faster.  _What has she done? Nothing too serious, surely, she hasn't been out of my sight for too long._ "What is it?"

Sansa bit her lip. "It doesn't matter now," she said quickly. "but I told Margaery that we hadn't… hadn't consummated our marriage. But… it wasn't like that, not really. I told her that we had, but she  _knew._ She knew I was lying. She said I was a bad liar. That everyone would know, and that I needed to do it soon." Sansa played with her hair nervously. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was afraid you'd be angry."

Sandor looked away from her. "I am angry!" He could feel his anger rising inside him, but didn't bother to try and quell it. "You made me promise I hadn't been whoring, but you didn't tell me you'd divulged something that could threaten our marriage and my reputation?"

"I didn't make you! I didn't say anything!" Sansa shouted. They were both shouting now.  _Gods help any servant who would try to enter our chamber just now._

Sandor took a few long, heavy steps toward to his wife. "No! You didn't say anything! But you were angry, and I could see it. And you were hiding a lie of your own! Margaery is not your friend. She is a pawn of the Queen, and she  _wanted_ to be married to Joffrey, even after you told her aunt what he is really is."

Sansa's eyes widened.  _How could he know about that?_

Sandor smirked. "A dog always knows more than he should. Is that why you were so eager today? Because Lady Margaery  _suggested_ that you pet your dog?!"

His wife looked horrified at the thought. "No," she said. "No, of course not! I wanted to, I thought…" Her words trailed off.  _I am not sure what I thought, but I know I wanted him. At least then, I did._

Sandor turned away from her and walked toward the door. "Tell me, Sansa, when you meet with her today, will you tell her how big my cock is?"

Sansa's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't say such things in my presence,  _Sandor._ I am a  _lady_ … Lady Sansa Stark of-"

Sandor cut her off angrily. "You are Lady Sansa  _Clegane_ ," he said through his teeth. "and you would do well to remember it." His last words were full of malice and threatening rage.

Sansa smiled coldly and turned away to open her chest with her silks in it. "Leave, Sandor, but know this. You do not frighten me, not anymore. I have seen you, past your face and past your size. You are not half so evil as you would have me believe. I  _will_ meet with Lady Margaery, and I will tell her what I please." Sansa pulled a pink gown out of her chest. "I will be here when you return, and you would do well to remember  _that._ "

Sandor clenched his teeth and stormed out of the room, taking strides so large that Sansa would never catch up to him, even if she tried to follow. _She won't. I have angered her. I underestimated her fire, her capacity for anger and her tolerance for threats._  He took the first set of stairs quickly, two at a time, and knocked over a serving boy in his haste.

Sansa did not follow her husband.  _I have no tears left for this. He will be back tonight. Maybe he will be the gentle Sandor I knew this morning. Maybe the angry one that left. Maybe one day he can be the best of both. I do not know._  She had surprised herself with her boldness, but despite his size, The Hound proved far less frightening than Joffrey ever had.  _It is because he loves me, even if he does not know it yet._


End file.
